“Where is everybody?” Nadia asked, arms laden with travel bags. “Usually I can’t go two feet without someone in a drab uniform trying to haul away my stuff.”
“It is rather strange.” Monica had also noticed a distinct lack ofpeoplein her house. This was a woman who was used to encountering at least five whenever she entered Warren ManororLe Château. Because the manor could be just as bad as her place of business.The Warrens are used to a certain standard of living.Nadia joked that the family employed half of the middle-class people in the neighboring town. As the woman who went over their paychecks and benefits, Monica was inclined to agree.Chefs, butlers, maids who clean all day, drivers, gardeners…They didn’t directly employ plumbers, carpenters, and electricians, but they kept many on retainer in case of emergency.Thatwas something Monica had to get used to when she married into the family.
“Genie!” Monica flagged down one solo maid who dusted the credenza lining the back hallway between the two family wings. “Ms. Kennedy!”
Sure enough, the young Genie Kennedy looked over her shoulder whenthemistress of the house approached. “Oh! Mrs. Warren!” One of the more recent hires at the manor, Genie was a weekend maid who lived off property and worked part-time. While it wasn’t unusual to see her bustling about on a Sunday afternoon, itwasstrange to not see her with her supervisor. “You’re home earlier than I expected.”
Monica was already suspicious. “What do you mean? Where are the others?”
“The others, ma’am?”
“Your coworkers. So far, you’re the only one I’ve seen here.”
“Of course! You gave everyone else the weekend off.”
Don’t. Panic.Oh, Monica wanted to panic. Every alarm bell rang in her head, screaming at hersomething was wrong! Something was very wrong!
Where was Genie’s supervisor?
Where was Elson?
Where wasanyone?
“Explain to me what you heard. Kindly, please.”
Genie placed her feather duster on the credenza and pondered Monica’s words.Poor thing thinks she’s in trouble.Already, though, Monica’s thoughts blew by at a hundred miles an hour, oscillating between a simple miscommunication and something more sinister at play. Had Isabella fired most of the staff while the other adults were gone?
“Mrs. Warren… I mean theotherMrs. Warren… gave everyone but me the weekend off. Handed out gift cards to apologize for the inconvenience of getting ready for work, you see. I mean, I also got one! She’s very generous, the other Mrs. Warren.”
Monica was too wide-eyed with shock to properly speak. “Wh… where is she now?”
“The other Mrs. Warren? She…”
“Monica!” Henry’s voice boomed from the stairs leading to the second floor of the east wing. “Abigail’s gone!”
There may have been a million explanations for what her husband just said, but the result was the same: everyone in the foyer, from Monica to Genie to Eva, stopped what they were doing to watch a giant of a man thrust himself against the railing with nothing but anxiety crushing his paling face.
“No…” Monica rushed toward the stairs. “What do youmean,Henry?”
He was almost out of breath when he said, “Abigail. Mother. They’re both not here. There’s no sign of them, and I found this!”
Monica helped save him from almost dropping the large phone he pulled out of his pocket. It wasn’t his. This one sported an apricot case with a faint lilac outline. The only person who loved pastels more than Monica’s interior decorator was Isabella Warren.
“Where are they!” she snapped at Genie, who suddenly donned the countenance of a woman who realized something serious was afoot. “Where’s my daughter!”
The maid spun around, hand on her chest and words futilely sputtering from her mouth. “I’m sorry?”
Monica was the shortest person in the house. Not just among her family, barring her growing daughter, but the staff as well. Yet she had the constitution to bear down upon the young woman holding her hand to her chest and looking like she was about to jump out of the window.Thatwas the power of the panic welling up inside her and threatening to destroy the world.
“Where…” Deep down, didn’t Monica know? “Is…” Didn’t some not-so-hidden part of her see this coming? “My…” She wasshaking so hard that she didn’t think about the spit flying from her lips. “Daughter?”
The whole family stood behind her, Henry coming the closest as he towered over Genie. She looked fit to faint.
“She left with Mrs. Warren… I mean, the other one… last night.” Genie braced herself against the credenza, her face so pale and her lips so dry that Monica could have disintegrated the girl with one poke. “They took luggage with them. Mrs. Warren excused everyone but me from our jobs this weekend because she said that nobody was in residence.”
Monica grabbed her by the arms.
“Where the hell did they go!”
